Time for Dessert
by Emmybooboo
Summary: Ana can hardly talk about all of the complicated parts of their relationship when she has her mouth full-literally. Mature content.


My hair is thick around my shoulders, and I push my fingers through it thinking. A giggle catches in my throat as I realize that I must look exactly the way Christian does while he thinks things over. Fingers plunged in hair, head down, eyes closed. Making love to Christian this morning was wonderful, but the more I wrap myself up in him, the more I worry that I am losing myself. My heart is crying a love song as if it were just born when he touched me, but my mind is hectic and thoroughly trashed.

I am never more alive than when Christian is inside me. The idea is new and delicate, and I test it out in my mind. I roll it over a few times, trying to decide if this discovery about myself is something I like. Ana Steele does not need someone else to make her feel alive. That's an idea I have always been very firm about, so the fact that sex—no, sex _with Christian_-has changed me is disconcerting.

"Hey, baby. Ice cream?" Christian is carrying a bowl of vanilla ice cream and two spoons, looking like the childish, adorable man that he sometimes is. He grins happily at me, and I delight in the fact that we can have crazy sex and also hang out like two people in love.

"Mmm," I smile at him bashfully and pat the sheets on the bed for him to come sit beside me. He dutifully obliges, flopping down heavily.

"I thought we could play with the vanilla a little, so I added blackberries!" Christian gives me a wicked look, aware that he is making a reference to both the bowl of vanilla ice cream with blackberries and our steamy sex life.

"I love it when we spice the vanilla up..." I say as I pick a blackberry out of the bowl and pop it into my mouth. His smile fades and is replaced with want. I see it clearly now—I used to have such trouble deciding if he was angry or turned on or upset, but my Fifty is getting easier to read. He wants me. The look is one that I know as well as I know my own heart.

Christian leans forward and feeds me a bite of the ice cream, his eyes locked on mine. There is something so sexual about the way he puts the spoon against my lips, the way he stares at my open my mouth. I allow myself to become wrapped up in my senses. I feel everything—every time the spoon touches my lower lip, I shiver. Every time Christian's eyes casually gaze down my body, I let the surging of desire run through me. We sit this way for quite a while, eating bites of ice cream, staring at each other, and letting the tension build between us.

The bowl is finally empty when Christian reaches down and sets it on the floor, letting his cool fingers trail playfully up my leg as he rises.

"Mmm, now I'd like some _real_ dessert." Christian rises from the bed and stands before me while I sit. I reach out and begin to unbutton his jeans, delighting in the way his face changes from want to excited to happy and back and forth. I pull his jeans down his hips, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, so that my knees are on either side of his legs. His erection bulges in his boxer briefs right in front of my face. I lean in and let my lips rest gently on him, feeling the throbbing in him press against me, sending chills down my body and wetness seeping through my panties.

Christian's hands go to my head instinctively, pulling my hair to one side and holding it between his fingers. I can see his abdomen quiver as my lips rest contentedly against his clothed erection. His breathing is what finally brings me back. He is panting now, trying to keep his control while I am literally inches away from having him in my mouth.

I bring my fingers to the waist band of his boxer briefs and tug slowly down, letting his firm shaft struggle and fight to free itself. When it does, it practically smacks me in the face and Christian gasps.

"Ana, I'm.." He looks horrified.

"Shh..." I take him in my hand now and move my fist slowly up and down him, studying his face while I do. He has relaxed again, his lips slightly parted while I pleasure him. I watch as he swallows hard, his Adams apple moving and looking pained. Oh, my beautiful man.

I spread my lips now and lead forward, willing him to naturally slide down across my tongue, as if my mouth were made simply to please him. As he reaches the back of my throat, I stop worrying about whether it's okay for me to be so wrapped up in him. The tension from my earlier concern flows away from my body and the only need I can ever see myself having again is making this man happy.

I push forward until my lips are touching him, his stiff erection fully down my throat. My hands grip his hip, running backwards to his behind and squeezing. I use his body: pushing and pulling on him and making him mine. His breathing is labored, more than panting. Glancing up I see that he isn't just panting, he is grinding his teeth and flaring his nostrils. I know he is going to come, and the wetness between my legs is taunting me.

"Ahhhna!" My name is a garbled screech from his lips as he empties his seed down my throat. I willingly drink him, delighting in the pleasure of his joy.

As his body quivers, I pull back and gaze up at him.

"Delicious." And then he is on me, pulling clothes from my body and softly biting every piece of flesh he exposes. We are it. This is real. This is how it is supposed to be.


End file.
